Mariage d'Amour
by Lumionessence
Summary: Draco and Hermione have become fast friends in a post-war wizarding Britain, but what will Hermione do when that friendship begins to extend to his father, and will it blossom into something more? Probably fluffy, maybe slow-burn, definitely EWE.


**This is another WIP that's been sitting in my vault for the last year, but I've pulled it out, blown the dust off, and put a pretty little bow on it for the new year. This one is a bit different from anything I've ever written before in terms of style, as it's told mostly through vignette type scenes at this point. I'm not actually sure I could write this story any other way as I think it would become incredibly boring very quickly. Oddly inspired by the classical piece from which it takes its name, I'm thinking this story will be a somewhat fluffy slow burn with some very definite mature themes. Read at your own risk. *wink***

**As always, concrit is kindly received if kindly given. **

**Disclaimer: All Things Harry Potter are not mine.**

* * *

_"Forgiveness does not  
change the past, _  
_but it does  
enlarge the future." _

—Paul Boese

It started when she became casual acquaintances with one Draco Malfoy. Working in the same department meant it was better to be amicable towards each other than outright hostile. Within a year, frosty dispositions had warmed into friendly banter and snarky manners, and before she knew it, he was inviting her to the first big gala to be held at his ancestral home in nearly a decade.

"What's the occasion, Draco?" she'd asked.

"My engagement to Astoria Greengrass," he'd replied, his face smitten with the kind of wonder and adoration she used to dream about for herself one day.

He'd begun courting Astoria shortly after they'd called their truce, and she had to admit, the pair were well-suited to each other. Astoria had a genteel nature, sweet and soft, but underneath that refined exterior, she hid a quiet strength and a brilliant mind, sharp with wit and intelligence. She reminded Hermione much of Draco's mother, those few times she had seen the woman before an incurable illness claimed her life. She remembered the story breaking in the paper, a photo of a distraught Draco and a haggard Lucius gracing a portion of the page reporting on the memorial service.

"That's wonderful, Draco! I'm so happy for you," she'd gushed appropriately, hugging him in delight.

Draco hugged her back by picking her up and twirling her around in the air once before setting her back on her feet. "I still can't believe she said yes," his expression was still dazed, and she suspected it would remain so until well after the wedding.

"I can't either, you miserable git," she'd snarked at him, shoving his shoulder with the heel of her hand, to which Draco merely responded with the idiotic grin only the truly love-struck could achieve. Then his face became serious.

"You will come, won't you?" he'd asked in earnest, and she could only smile at him, knowing he was thinking about the dark past.

She reached up a hand to cup his cheek. "Yes, Draco, I will come. Who else is going to make sure you behave like a proper gentleman?"

"Thanks, Hermione," and he leaned down to give her a peck on the cheek before turning away, promising an official invitation by owl in a day or two.

~*O*~

The day of Draco's engagement gala dawned on a gorgeous Saturday morning, the kind of day that woke up hazy and warm with the heady scent of summer blossoms hanging on the breeze. She sat on the porch of her little cottage, an open book in her lap as she sipped her tea in quiet reflection, the peaceful drone of honeybees lulling her into tranquillity.

The party was set to begin in the early evening. It would be her first visit to Malfoy Manor since _that_ day, but she felt no real apprehension about it. The past was the past; no one had come out of the war unscathed, including the Malfoys. They had all suffered immeasurably, and there would be little point in remaining resentful over something for which they'd had no control. To do so would be self-defeating.

As the morning wore into a leisurely afternoon, Hermione began to get ready, treating herself to a long soak in the clawfoot tub of her little en suite. The scent of vanilla and orange blossoms hung thick in the air, the gentle fragrance soothing as she washed her hair. Her normally bushy mane clung to her body like a second skin as rivulets of water cascaded in wet trails down her back. When she was finished, she towelled herself off and, wrapping the same fluffy towel tightly around her slender frame, she sat down at the narrow little vanity in her room.

She was not normally one to primp and pamper herself, but as she began rubbing scented lotions into her skin, she reflected that it was nice to have a reason to do so every once in a while. Casting a drying charm over her hair, she began to brush it out. She'd let it grow after everything had settled down, and her shoulder-length curls now fell to her hips. She looked at the frizzled mess in the mirror and sighed, reaching for the bottle of Sleekeazy potion she kept on hand for special occasions.

An hour later, she had her wild mane tamed, combed, coiffed, and curled into a half-up, half-down up-do, her auburn tresses falling in soft waves down her back. She applied a bare minimum of cosmetics as she lightly lined her eyes, adding a hint of blush and a touch of lip colour. Satisfied with her appearance, she rose to slip on her gown.

And it was a gorgeous gown.

The invitation had stated that even though the gala would take place in a pavilion within the Malfoy gardens, it would be a formal affair, and to please dress accordingly. She'd rolled her eyes. Of course, it would be. She'd forced Draco to go shopping with her the week before to ensure she didn't commit some kind of high society fashion faux pas.

"I've never been to a formal event of this calibre, Draco, not the kind you're used to," she'd confessed. "I don't think I even own anything that could be considered formal wear."

So they had apparated to Diagon Alley, where Draco's first instinct was to take her to Twilfit and Tattings until she brought him up short, a pained expression on her face.

"I'm not you, Draco, I can't afford anything in there. You'll just have to suffer through perusing Madame Malkin's shop with me." He'd grimaced, but dutifully followed her when she told him matter-of-factly that if he wanted her to come, he was going to have to endure a little discomfort at her expense. "Besides, I've already been here and picked out three possibilities, I just need your help deciding which is the most appropriate." She'd grinned at his all-suffering sigh.

Madame Malkin obliged them by bringing out the three candidates. Hermione knew which of the three she would prefer, but her eyes rested on Draco, waiting to see if her fashion sense was completely hopeless.

Without any hesitation, he pointed. "That one."

She smiled.

~*O*~

At a quarter to six, Hermione slipped on a pair of silver, strappy sandals with kitten heels. She tucked her wand into her clutch and pulled the sheer midnight blue shawl over her shoulders. Taking one last look in the mirror, she ran her hands down the sides of her gown, a strapless vision of midnight blue silk and silver threaded accents. Satisfied, she picked up the tiny silver dove that had come with her official invitation and waited. At exactly 6:00 pm, it activated.

She arrived in a small clearing adorned with white roses and lilies in blushing shades. A thin walkway led down to one of the largest pavilions she'd ever seen. The flaps were drawn up, and she could see the long tables within, dressed in their flowing white linens. Bouquets of the same white roses and lilies served as the centrepieces, each rose charmed to the perfect stage of bloom. Tall, white candles ensconced in elegant silver candelabras illuminated the pristine place settings, their warm glow sparkling off crystal wine glasses. Fairy lights, nestled within tasteful garlands of fresh greenery, hid high against the gauzy sweeps of fabric that lined the inside of the canopy. She could only imagine what the actual wedding would look like.

"Hermione!"

She turned her head toward the voice, smiling as she saw Draco striding toward her, elegant in his white dress robes with a blushing Astoria on his arm. The girl was a vision, her hair swept up in a high chignon and ornamented with a tiny, delicate tiara. She was clad in a shimmering silver sheath that fell to her ankles with a modest slit in the side for ease of movement.

Hermione moved to greet them, taking both of Astoria's hands in her own and delicately kissing her on each of her blushed cheeks.

"Congratulations, Astoria, I wish you all the best with this pretentious prat, you're going to need it," she greeted her, a smile on her lips.

Astoria grinned mischievously. "I'm sure when I need help bringing him down a peg or two, I know who to call."

Draco groaned in mock despair. "Bloody women," he muttered. "I'm doomed."

He offered his free arm to Hermione and escorted both of them down to the pavilion.

~*O*~

Dinner was a stately affair. She recognized a few faces, but many were new to her. As soon as she was seated, her wine glass began to fill with bright and bubbly champagne. The guests fell quiet as the customary toasts began, the first of which was delivered by the prospective groom's father.

Lucius Malfoy stood tall, resplendent in his finery, his platinum blond hair pulled back to his nape with a length of dark grey ribbon. His silver eyes were bright as he gazed over the guests, his voice sure and strong as he congratulated his son and future daughter-in-law in taking the first step towards a long and happy marriage. As he raised his glass in a toast, his eyes met hers, and she froze as she saw the light of recognition pass over his features. She hastily took a sip of her champagne.

Dinner consisted of several courses, each seeming to appear at appointed times. Her only warning was when the wine glasses would begin to empty, refilling themselves with a new vintage that was complementary for each course. Wine of this calibre was a rare and delightful treat and she made sure to properly savour each sip. Throughout the meal, she occasionally felt eyes on her, and she'd look up to see Lucius watching her, his face impassive. The first time it happened, she blushed, dropping her eyes back to her plate.

Once the meal was cleared away, the music began. As the guests left the tables, they ringed the dance floor, waiting for Draco and Astoria to open the dancing. They started with a lovely waltz, and partway through, others began to join them. Soon, the dance floor was swirling with shimmering gowns, a variegated kaleidoscope of colour beneath the bright glow of lanterns that hovered above the floor. Hermione picked out Draco and Astoria, a soft smile on her lips as she leaned against a support column. Feeling eyes on her again, she found Lucius staring at her from across the dance floor, his expression unreadable.

She shivered.

* * *

**Happy New Year!**

**~Lumionessence**


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